I know I haven't been in the throne long, but I fear that I must give up my royal Queendom. I have been completely outdone. Mama Robin should be Queen of the Meadow.
Okay, honestly, I'm just getting used to this Queen gig and I'm not giving up the title yet, but Mama at least deserves an honorary degree (perhaps an honorary doctorate in Home Economics) or a bestowed title of Duchess of the Meadow.
Yesterday she helped her THIRD clutch of babies of the summer fly from the nest. Well, fall from the nest with flapping wings and then hop along the ground. The first one found cover on the edge of the yard. And I must say that he looks mighty proud.
Mama followed him around the yard, hopping right behind him, trying to protect him from the world as best as she knew how. All the while, she kept searching for worms to feed her young, flying back to the nest to feed her youngster who had not yet found the courage to make the big leap, but who waited patiently for lunch.
And if that wasn't enough, Mama Robin still stove to keep a tidy nest. Every time she fed little Beaker, she would wait patiently for , oh, 4 seconds, until her dear baby eliminated. Yes, this little bird pooped after every single worm, and Mama would pick up the poop and carry it away.
In her mouth. I will never be as queen as that.